Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust
by JordanGirl
Summary: A late night. A run. A chat with an old friend. Can Jordan rediscover her faith? Just so you're aware, this deals HEAVILY with a portion of a faith journey, so there's lots of God-talk in it.
1. Chapter 1

**Faith, Trust and. . .Pixie Dust?**

**Chapter 1**

**PG-13**

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I don't own them ~ they're all Tim's.  I just borrow them for stories ~ or they borrow my head!  :0)

Song lyrics: "I'll Try" from _Return to Neverland, by Jonatha Brooke ~~ I'm just borrowing them as well._

*************************************

Jordan. . .

Great.  Here I am, sitting alone in the window in my loft.  I can't sleep.  At least not since. . .  I don't want to think about all that crap with Malden.  I was an idiot.  Jeeze I can be so stupid sometimes!  I try to act all big and grown-up, like I can take care of myself.  But that's all it is.  An act.  You'd think I'd be better at it by now.  After all, I've only been doing it for 24 years now.

What is that noise?  Oh.  Guess I'm not the only one still awake.  Someone somewhere close has their TV on or something.  I can hear the voices.  Great.  A musical.  Probably some Disney cartoon or something.  Hmm. . .  Interesting words. . .

_I am not a child now_

_I can take care of myself_

_I mustn't let them down now_

_Mustn't let them see me cry_

_I'm fine, I'm fine_

Oh yeah.  I know that feeling only too well.  I lived it after. . .after Mom died.  The first few days I was in shock ~ not crying or anything.  Everyone said how well I was doing, how strong I was being.  I guess it stuck and I figured that's how I was supposed to be.  After all, I'd never been through death before.  I was only ten.  How the hell was I supposed to know how to act.

_I'm too tired to listen_

_I'm too old to believe_

_All these childish stories_

_There is no such thing as faith_

_And trust and pixie dust_

Ain't that the truth?  "Have faith," everyone said.  "God will bring you through this."  Oh yeah.  Right.  Where was God when Mom was being murdered?  And then there was all that crap about how it was her time, how God called her to be with him.  Didn't God care about me?  I was only ten.  Dad tried.  He tried everything.  He said we'd be ok, that things would all be alright.  I guess in a way they were ~ are.  

_I try_

_But it's so hard to believe_

_I try_

_But I can't see what you see_

_I try, I try, I try. . ._

And then there was Confirmation Class.  I hated that ~ well, I didn't get it.  Everyone else was talking about faith.  About how God talked with them in their prayers.  They had some grand vision of things, and maybe they were right.  At least Paul was.  He seemed to always know what he was called to be.  Even when we went out, he was always somewhere else.  But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see it, couldn't hear any voice.  I didn't see or hear anything about someone speaking to me, giving me divine guidance.  I hadn't since that day. . .  Yeah, I went through the motions.  Had my confirmation.  But it didn't mean anything to me.  Yeah, I slept with the rosary under my pillow.  But I thought Mom had gotten it for me.  I thought maybe somehow I could connect with her.  Dad tried, but I needed my mother.  Especially. . .

_My whole world is changing_

_I don't know where to turn_

_I can't leave you waiting_

_But I can't stay and watch this city burn_

_Watch it burn_

Good God this song is appropriate.  Ok, so it's not quite this long. . .it's just stuck in my head.  If that isn't my life in a nutshell.  First there was the whole residency thing.  And what came after.  The pills, the whiskey, the hospital. . .  If that wasn't a time when I needed my mother, I don't know what was.

And then there was the whole affair thing.  But I don't want to go into that right now.  Been there, done that. . .got the scars to prove it.

I've gotta get out of here. Guess I'll go for a run.  At least it's something to do. . .  And it's not like I don't know the precautions to take to protect myself.  Especially after what happened 13 years or so ago!

_Cause I try_

_But it's so hard to believe_

_I try_

_But I can't see what you see_

_I try, I try_

What the. . .?  Where am I?  I've been here before.  But when. . .?  That case.  The one with the guy who claimed to be Saint Francis.  The homeless shelter.  But what the hell am I doing outside the homeless shelter?  It's not like I. . .  Oh well, might as well see if Paul's here.  Maybe he can help me make sense of all these things flying around in my mind.

_I try and try to understand_

_The distance in between_

_The love I feel_

_And the things I fear_

_And every single dream_

"Jordan?"

"Hey Paul.  Sorry to come by so late, but. . ."

"Are you ok?  What's wrong?"  He reached out and wiped a tear I didn't even know was there from my cheek.

"I just. . .  Paul, can we talk?"

"Sure, Jordan.  Come on in."

**. . .to be continued. . .**


	2. Chapter 2

**Faith, Trust and. . .Pixie Dust?**

**Chapter 2**

**PG-13**

****************************************

I don't own them ~ they're all Tim's.  I just borrow them for stories ~ or they borrow my head!  :0)

Song lyrics: "I'll Try" from _Return to Neverland, by Jonatha Brooke ~~ I'm just borrowing them as well._

*************************************

Paul checked in with a volunteer and then led me into a small sitting room in the rectory, motioning to a chair.

"What's up, Jordan?  Another body of a person claiming to be a saint?"

"No, no.  Nothing like that.  I. . .  Paul, I've got some questions."

"About faith?"

"Faith.  God.  All that stuff."

"Alright.  I'll do my best to answer them."

"Ok.  I don't really even know where to start."

"The beginning, maybe?"

"Um. . .  Well, I couldn't sleep tonight, so I was sitting in a window in my loft.  It's so pretty, I had it open.  And someone close by was watching some movie and a song came on that got me thinking about stuff."

"Uh huh. . ."  He was encouraging me to go on.

"Well, it started me thinking about when Mom died and how everyone kept saying how strong I was.  And then telling me to have faith.  That Mom's death was God's will.  That if I just believed things were going to be alright.  And Father Ryan's homily at her service.  I remember him saying that God took her to heaven to be with him.  And I just. . .  That's when I shut God out.  How could I have faith in a God who would take my mother from me at the time when I was starting to need her most?"

"I can't say I blame you for that, Jordan.  It's a horrible thing to say.  I know it doesn't do any good for your mother's service now, but I make it a point never to say that in my funeral mass homilies."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"But tonight, I don't know.  Something about the song got me to thinking about things.  Faith-type things I guess.  And then I went out for a run, and somehow I ended up at your door.  I don't know why."

"When was the last time you were at a worship service Jordan?"

"I don't know.  I guess it was sometime just after our Confirmation.  Dad had to work on Sundays and I never really bothered.  Even Confirmation was going through the motions.  Everything after Mom's death was.  Nothing seemed to matter to me at church after that.  Nothing was relevant.  Those stupid questions they asked us all the time ~ the seven deadly sins, that type of thing?  I didn't see the point in it.  If that was all religion was ~ stupid questions that didn't apply to my life and a God who would take my mother from me ~ I didn't want anything to do with it."

"I can't say I blame you, Jordan."

"You can't?"

"No.  I completely understand, Jordan.  Those questions you remember?  They're questions about religion.  Not faith."

"You mean there's a difference?"

"Yeah Jordan.  Faith isn't about having the right answers.  Faith is a feeling, a hunch.  It's a hunch that there is something bigger connecting it all.  Connecting us all together.  It's what drove you here tonight.  Even if you didn't know it.  That feeling, that hunch, is God."

"So the 'Why did God let my mother be murdered?' is a religion question?"

"Not quite.  It's a perfectly natural question.  Jordan, we want to understand why things happen.  It's ok to ask questions.  We just don't always know the answers.  But asking questions is how we grow, how our faith deepens."

"Oh."  I was silent for a minute, thinking things through.  "Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course you can."

"I'll accept that we can't know why God let Mom die.  But where was God when it happened?  When she was shot?"

"I firmly believe that God was there, Jordan.  God was there with your mother when she was shot.  God was with her when she was drawing her last breath.  God was with your father when he found her.  God was with you when you went into that living room."

"Really?"

"That's what I believe.  Jordan, God understands our pain.  God became human.  God loved people while on earth and lost people he loved.  Remember the story about Lazarus?"

"Not really."

"The story itself isn't important to this conversation, but he wept at Lazarus' grave."

"Oh.  Ok. . ."

"And Jordan?  God's been with you ever since.  Just because you shut God out of your life, God didn't give up on you."

"Really?  Even though I said all those horrid things when I was so angry?"

"I remember that conversation.  And yes, really.  God's big enough to take your anger.  There are plenty of examples of people being angry with God."

"And even when I quit praying?  Quit believing?  Said that science was my friend cause it doesn't let me down?  God's been there all along?"

"I remember that conversation.  And yes, God's been there all along.  Remember what happened not too long after that conversation?"

"The prayer?  Yeah.  But that didn't feel like a prayer to me."

"What's a prayer supposed to feel like?"

"I don't know.  I guess. . .I'd always done it before Mom died with a rosary."

"There are different ways to pray.  Some people do better with rosaries, some with journals, some with silence, some just by opening their hearts and saying what they need to."

"Oh.  But. . ."

"But what, Jordan?"

"But that time I was talking to God directly."

"Yeah.  And?"

"And. . .  Well, I remember in class we always talked about praying to Mary and asking her to intercede for us."

"Yes.  Some people feel that they need someone to speak for them.  But I don't necessarily think that's so.  I think that we can talk with God whenever, wherever.  Just like you did that day."

"Oh.  Ok."

"Anything else?"

"Um. . .way too many to deal with now.  Besides, we've been up all night.  I think I need to find some lunch soon."

"You're right.  But it's ok.  You needed to talk.  I'm just glad you came to talk with me.  I know it's not easy stuff to deal with.  Questions are normal.  Feeling unsure and doubting is normal.  It's a healthy part of the faith journey.  And anytime you're ready to deal with some more questions, I'm here.  I can promise you that, Jordan.  I can't promise you answers, but I can promise you my presence and a listening heart and ear."  He reached over and took my hand.  We just sat there for a little while.  Finally I looked at him.

"Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you let me buy you some lunch.  I know just the place to go."

"Alright."

**. . .to be continued. . .**


	3. Chapter 3

**Faith, Trust and. . .Pixie Dust?**

**Chapter 3**

**PG-13**

****************************************

I don't own them ~ they're all Tim's.  I just borrow them for stories ~ or they borrow my head!  :0)

Song lyrics: "I'll Try" from _Return to Neverland, by Jonatha Brooke ~~ I'm just borrowing them as well._

*************************************

_I can finally see it_

_Now I've got to believe_

_All those precious stories_

_All the world is made of faith, and trust. . ._

_. . .and pixie dust_

I was glad Dad was still serving sandwiches and munchies.  It wasn't far from the Pogue, so we walked, enjoying the early fall weather.

"So, you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Oh, this little place I love.  Actually, my dad owns it."

"Really?"

"Yeah.  That medical scare thing about a year and a half ago that you were so worried about. . .?"

"He's fine.  It was negative.  So he bought this bar ~ well, actually he bought it before he knew."

"That's cool.  I'm glad he's ok, Jordan."

"Yeah.  Me too."

When we got there, Dad insisted that we sit at the bar while he fixed corned beef on rye for all of us.  He joined us in a bite of lunch and we all talked about old times and life in general.  After a while, Paul looked at his watch.

"Jordan, Max, this has been great. But if I'm going to be any good at the shelter tonight, I need to get some sleep."

"Alright, Paul.  It's been good to see you.  Don't stay a stranger."

"Not now that I know where you are, Max.  Promise.  Jordan. . ."

"I'll walk you out."  I hopped off the barstool and moved towards the door.  As we got to the door, I turned to look at Paul.  "Paul. . .about last night. . ."

"Jordan, it's ok.   You don't have to. . ."

"No.  I do.  Paul, you let me ask questions I never felt safe asking before.  Questions I always thought were wrong.  Thank you for letting me do that.  In some weird way, I feel like something. . .I don't know. . .  I feel calmer today.  Calmer than I have in. . .well. . .years.  Thank you."

"Jordan, I've known you for a long time.  I know you didn't really pay attention to me until high school, but I remember when. . .when your mother was killed.  I made my mother take me to the service.  All I wanted to do was help you."

"Paul, I. . ."

"It's ok.  I think last night I got my wish."

"Yeah. . .I guess so.  You did help.  All those questions. . ."

"I'm sure you've probably got more, and that's ok.  Anytime you want to talk, I'll be here."

"Thanks, Paul."  I leaned over and kissed his cheek.  "I. . .I guess maybe, just maybe, science isn't my only friend."

"Jordan Cavanaugh.  Does this mean I'll be seeing you at Mass on Sunday?"

"I don't know about that.  But maybe sometime."

"The door's always open."  He kissed me on the cheek and walked out the door.  I turned and walked back to the bar, where Dad had been watching with interest.

"What was that all about?"  

"Paul?"

"Yes, Paul.  I'm not accustomed to seeing you so chummy with priests.  I've known you to stay far, far away from anything related to the church since. . ."

"Yeah.  I know.  But we reconnected last year ~ that homeless guy who claimed to be Saint Francis.  And then. . ."  My voice trailed off, lost in thoughts from the night before. . .and so many years prior.

"Then what, sweetie?"

"Last night I heard this song.  And it just got me thinking about stuff.  And then I went out for a run and found myself at the shelter's door and face to face with Paul.  He let me in and we talked for hours.  About all these questions I've had for so long."

"And did you get any answers?"

"Some.  Mainly I got that it's ok to have questions and doubts.  But that they don't always have answers."

"And you're ok with that?"

"Well, it doesn't mean I don't want them, but I think I can live with it.  I might even try church again ~ at some point.  But I don't know.  Baby steps.  Baby steps."

Dad leaned over and gave me a big hug.  "Jordan, I know things aren't easy.  But I'm glad you've got Paul to talk to.   And you've got me too."

"Thanks, Dad."  I returned the hug.  We both jumped as we heard another voice behind us.

"So, is this a family party or can a friend join?"  We spun to see Garret standing there.

"Garret, what are you doing here?"

"Lunch.  I know Max makes a mean corned beef on rye.  And I don't know.  I just had a feeling you might be here and need a friend or something."

"Really?"

"Yeah.  I can't explain it, but I had this dream that you were in some kind of trouble and then all morning I haven't been able to get you off my mind.  I knew it was your day off, and when there was no answer at your apartment, I took a guess."

"Oh.  Ok."

"So, everything ok?"

"Yeah.  I. . .it's a long story, Garret.  A long story, and I need to get some sleep.  How bout I buy you dinner tonight?"

"Sure.  Say around 7?"

"I'll pick you up at the morgue.  And Garret, things are alright.  For the first time in a long time, I really think they are."  I gave him a hug and walked out the door to catch a cab home.

Garret looked at Max questioningly.  "What the hell. . ."

"I'm not sure, Garret.  But for the first time in about 24 years I see a glimmer of something in my little girl's eyes I remember from before. . .  Faith, trust. . .hell, maybe even some pixie dust.  I don't know.  I just. . ."

"Yeah.  I know what you mean, Max.  I know what you mean."

_So I'll try_

_Because I finally believe_

_I'll try_

_Cause I can see what you see_

_I'll try, I'll try, I'll try, I'll try. . ._

_To fly._

_*************_

**_Finito!_**


End file.
